


Situational Adjustment

by delusionalintrospection



Category: End of Eternity | Resonance of Fate
Genre: Angst, Drama, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Family Feels, Fluff, Gen, Pathos, Romance, Sickfic, Vashyron is a good big brother
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-17 14:21:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2312696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delusionalintrospection/pseuds/delusionalintrospection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They are a strange, broken little family with strange, broken little people- but it is theirs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Zephyr Has Pink Hair, and It Is Leanne's Fault.

Zephyr was not actually a somber person.

In fact, the more the kid had come out of his shell over the years, the more Vashyron had come to realize that, if he'd had a different past, Zephyr would be one of the most  _trouble-making_ kids you'd know. Mischievous and fucking smart, Zephyr wasn't just the type to leave a bucket of water over your door.

He was the type to somehow get residue from a dead ooze between your sheets and re-make it so neatly and tightly that you didn't even notice until you got in and  _"Damn it, kid, I'm gonna_ _ **kill you**_ _-"_

It had been months before the kid had laughed. Hell, months before he'd even cracked a smile. But when he did, Vashyron had two things reinforced.

The first and most relevant was that Zephyr didn't filter anything he felt. If he was pissed he was pissed. If he was happy he was  _happy_. It was like a sling-shot- no in between. Everything he felt, he felt to the farthest degree possible. Clearly- it wasn't every fifteen year old kid who drove himself completely fucking insane, was it?

Well. Maybe that was unfair.

The other was that Zephyr, fickle as a cat and moody though he may be (and he was…) also liked to  _play_. Made sense, really- he was still a kid, after all, even though Vashyron himself had trouble remembering it, sometimes. Seventeen, now, eighteen in just a few months. Made him feel damn old, that did.

It had started right after that first reaction that wasn't snarling or growling or slinking around Sweet Home like a spooky street cat. He'd never seen a kid who could move so  _quietly_ , either. Had scared the hell out of him on more then one occasion.

It had started with the first throaty, rusty laugh, unused and loud in the quiet. Seemed like he'd been just as startled by it as Vashyron had been, from the way he'd stopped almost instantly, eyes wide and smile slowly falling away.

Granted, no one was sure  _who_  it had started with. Vashyron would always insist it was Zephyr and vice versa. But one thing they both agreed on-along with everyone who had been affected by them in some way- was that the prank wars between the boys got quickly out of control.

 _Way_ out of control.

It was the third or fourth time this had happened that they both agreed, unanimously, that they needed to stop.

That was all well and good for a time. All was peace- well, okay, no, that was a bunch of BS, all was  _not_  peace, there were yelling fights and hunts and once the kitchen caught on fire but that was Vashyron's fault, actually, and low snarled arguments and loud, playful wrestling matches and good-natured shouting and slowly the kid had just blossomed, right in front of his eyes, and he'd found out what it was like to be a big brother.

In a weird way, it was nice, having someone around after so long. Once he got used to it, that was- the first time Zephyr had dropped down behind him from the roof he'd damn near put the boy through the wall.

Then Leanne had come, his  _second_  stray (though he insisted every chance he got that she was  _Zephyr's_  stray, he'd brought her home and fed her, after all.) And if getting used to having another  _male_  in the house was hard, trying adding a girl to the mix.

He'd forgotten about  _periods_.

She'd had a grand total of half a year to get comfortable with them before the unspoken truce was violated in the form of a 'shaving cream bomb' that took  _hours_  to clean up. During which Zephyr was mysteriously missing and Leanne kept giggling in an obnoxiously nervous-to-be-amused sort of way on the sofa.

That was the first time she'd ever seen one of their never-ending wars. Well, never ending until one of them got hurt or in serious trouble-or crossed the line, which tended to happen. The end-game to this one, for example, had been Vashyron contaminating Zephyr's drink, unknowing that the boy was really rather incredibly allergic to cinnamon.

Zephyr hadn't known, either, until he'd been on their couch wheezing for air while a panicked Leanne tried very hard not to cry as he barked directions at her.

Any food-related pranks had been banned after that.

At first she'd been unsure and refused to participate in their childishness; partly out of timidity, partly out of a well-developed sense of self preservation.

(Aborted suicide attempt notwithstanding- that had been a  _unique_  situation from what she explained, and she'd never shown any sign since of suicidal tendencies…besides her willingness to wake them  _both_ up at the ass crack of dawn more then once for one reason or another. Or, generally, before they were ready. He was a bear in the morning, he knew that about himself, and Zephyr was just generally a little piss when he was being asked to do something he didn't want to do.)

But eventually, just like with their hunting, Leanne had been drawn irreversibly into their pranks. At first it had just been winding up on one side or another- usually Vashyron's- and then, one day, easily another half a year into her knowing them-

" _Damn it, Vashryon!"_

Which had honestly startled him, because for once he hadn't done a thing. He'd tumbled off the sofa when something hard had slammed into his back, yelping in surprise and shoving his hair out of his face, sleepy and disoriented and groggy.

At first, he'd thought it'd been because he was half-asleep and the sun was setting and it had  _just stormed_  that he was looking at Zephyr with pink hair. Optical illusion.

But no. No, not from the look on the kid's face. And a moment later, he was confirming it with more-awake eyes…Zephyr's hair was rose-colored.

He didn't laugh.

He  _didn'_ t.

The hooted peals of laughter came from  _behind_  him, where Leanne was doubled over, not even pretendin' to be innocent, howling as she draped over the back of the sofa. Vashyron saw the instant it hit the kid- who was actually behind his pink hair. His pale eyes widened, then flashed, then he was leaping over Vashyron and the cough in one, smooth leap.

" _Damn straight, you run!"_ He bellowed, as Leanne shrieked and bolted in the other direction. She leapt lightly up the stairs, Zephyr hot on her heels.

"You can't get anywhere goin' up, Leanne!" He called, picking himself up with a grunt of effort.  _Shit_ , he was getting old. There was a second shriek, and massive metal  _clang_ , and Leanne dropped down through the roof. She was sprinting just about before she hit the ground, and with good reason; Zephyr dropped down about two steps behind her.

"Vashyron!"

"Oh  _hell_  no, don't even come runnin' at me." He side-stepped her desperate lunge for him. "You got yourself into this, sweetcakes, you can get yourself out." He snorted a laugh as Zephyr darted around the sofa, pink hair-  _pink_!- glinting.

It was good, he thought, seein' them be kids.

Leanne was making a break for the door- "Just let him  _catch_  you, Leanne, it'll be over quicker that way-" thinking outside was her refuge- that Zephyr would balk at going into public. She was right, in a way. Zephyr  _would_  hesitate, for .004 seconds, before deciding  _fuck it, revenge is more important and coming after her anyhow._

Which was exactly what happened.

As the door slammed shut behind them, Vashyron considered a few things.

The first was to go upstairs and find out what, exactly, Leanne had done, how permanent it was, and if he needed to buy blond dye.

The second was actually calling out to remind Leanne that she was still in her bumble-bee pajamas.


	2. Sorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which The First Big Fight Happens, But Not With Guns. Barely. Luckily. It Was A Close Thing.

It was in their first year together- the first time Leanne ever realize that there was a Bad Day.

Really, she'd quickly come to realize there were  _bad days_ , of course; for both of them. For  _all_  of them. Days when they just felt- overwhelmed. Underwhelmed. Bored or trapped or restless or sad or hurt…days when all they wanted was to be left alone or not left alone for even a minute.

But she hadn't known there was a Bad Day, fully deserving of the capital letters, until it  _happened_.

It had started out like a normal day. Even a normal  _bad day_ , because Zephyr seemed to have them more then herself  _or_  Vashyron, not that she ever said. Zephyr hadn't woken up until nearly noon, hadn't come down for an hour or two more, and hadn't shown any interest in anything or anyone. She'd tried to talk to him, but he'd growled at her or ignored her.

To her surprise, Vashyron had gently guided her away from trying, pulling her attention to a tv show and watching some cheesy 'girl movie' that he hated with her just to keep her company and keep her  _away_ from Zephyr.

Not that it had been hard- not a very loud person to start with, usually, Zephyr had turned into an absolute  _ghost_. He slunk around at the edges of her vision for half the day, before he'd disappear and come back hours later smelling of something foul and looking no more happy. She heard Vashyron having growled conversations with him twice, and the tension in the house racked up with every passing hour.

It had come to a head right before bed. She'd elbowed her way past him grabbing her share of their dinner from the kitchen, something she'd done a hundred times before. Usually, he'd shove her back, and they'd end up in a punching, hitting, shoving, kicking war to wherever they were going. He'd never hurt her, never even tried, even once when she'd accidentally kneed him between the legs- no, really, it  _was_ an accident!

She hadn't been even doing it to play. She'd just pushed past, even said "Sorry, Zephyr-" And before anything else could get out he'd  _whirled around and shoved her_. And not play shoved, either. Not  _oh I'm messing with you_  push. It had had all his force behind it and she had  _screamed_  as she fell backwards, over a chair, and landed on her back with a  _whuff_ , food flying.

She was pretty sure Vashryon's shoes made screeching sounds on the floor.

"What the  _hell_  is going on in here?"

Leanne had never been scared of her boys. She knew they were both deadly, powerful, skilled…but they'd never been scary or intimidating to her. Not even when she'd first met Vashyron, gruff and grumpy as he'd been. But now, looking at Zephyr- at the  _coldness_  in his eyes, the way he trembled a little, the clenched fists…she was  _scared_.

"I'm sorry." She heard herself whisper, "I said I was- sorry-" Damn it, she  _would not_  cry. She wasn't a little girl letting herself be bullied.

" _Zephyr_." She'd never heard  _that_  tone, either, from Vashyron- his normally lazy, good natured drawl turning into a sharp, no nonsense bark. "Back off.  _Now_."

And to her amazement, he did. He snarled, but he took one step back from her, two, and then turned his back on her. "Watch where you're going." He said, but it was so,  _so_  cold; no warmth or affection or humor or even irritation in his voice. Picking herself up, she lifted her plate with a shaking hand.

"I  _said_  -"

"And stop apologizing! Damn it, Leanne just- just shut up, alright?" She stopped in shock at the terse tone to his voice, the way he seemed on edge over something so- small.

"Alright, that's enough." Vashyron, still in that sharp tone. "You. I don't give a shit what day it is, what's going on in that head of yours or what just happened in here, but either stop being a  _dick_  or get your ass upstairs and stay put until you think you  _can_. You got it?"

"I'm not your kid. You can't  _ground me_."

A bark of a laugh. "No, but I think we both know you're not fit company for a pack of wolves right now, and Leanne hasn't done a damn thing to earn your teeth. You wanna work this out of your system, Arena's just a short walk that-a way and I'm right here. Otherwise,  _knock it off_  or get upstairs and stay there."

There was a long, terse moment. Then Zephyr made a low, snorting noise in his throat before turning and stalking up the stairs to his own room. And just like that, Vashyron had melted back into the laid-back, mellow person she knew, giving her a smile that was a little strained at the edges.

"You alright?"

"He didn't hurt me." She still felt like she was going to cry, to her shame.

"Just spooked you a little. Can understand that." Softly, resting a hand at the nape of her neck and guiding her back into the other room. "I'll clean up the mess. You get yourself something to eat."

"I can do it-"

"I know you can." He gave her a little shove. "You're shaking like a leaf, Leanne, go calm down."

"Why is he-" She stopped the question at his sharp glance, the raised brow.

"That isn't my place to tell you." He said, softly. "You wanna ask him when he's feeling a little more human, that's between you two. Just don't expect him to be willing to talk about it."

She looked down at her hands, laced in front of her. "It's not- anything I did…right?"

" _No_." Soft and low, a drawl with a touch of humor that instantly put her at ease. "No, darlin', not you. You're just a convenient target. I've been on the pointy end of his teeth before myself. He'll be all apologetic in a few days, and then you can walk over him like a doormat until he stops feelin' guilty." A playful grin, but again, she noticed how it didn't quite touch his eyes.

She nodded, letting the subject drop, and went to get herself a fresh plate of food. She didn't see Zephyr for the rest of the day.

The night, though, when she came out of her little room to get a drink, she saw him, sitting on the sofa. He was curled into the arm of the couch in the smallest little ball possible, and Vashyron was speaking in a low, mellow tone- freezing, she could only catch snatches of words and phrases, and it was clear he was speaking for Zephyr's ears only.

His  _voice_ , when he replied, broke her heart. She'd never heard him upset- not near-tears upset, never once. Angry, irritated, in pain, yes, but never this breaking, high tone. She couldn't understand him, either, but more because he was talking  _fast_  and slurring his words together.

By the time Vashyron replied, she'd already slipped back into her room, feeling as if she was intruding on something private and not yet for her.

Not yet? She wondered if she would ever find out what today was. She wondered if Zephyr would ever trust her enough to let her see.

She wondered if she would ever, really, be let into the little world that Vashyron and Zephyr had made for themselves.

"Leanne."

She stopped dead. She hadn't made a noise! But Vashyron's voice said he knew she was there, plain as day. She turned, quietly crept back into the room. He was watching her with an odd little smile, head tipped. "Can't sleep, either?"

She shook her head, warily shifting her gaze to Zephyr, who hadn't looked up at her. "Wanna come watch a movie with us?" Vashryon's voice was gently prodding, and she looked up. His smile was honest and gentle, and he tilted his head at her, shifting so that there was a spot on the other side for her to sit.

"Come on. Been a hard day."

"If it's-okay." She whispered, and Zephyr looked up at last. He didn't smile. He didn't even smirk.

"Sure it is." His voice was a harsh rasp. "If you-want to." He softened near the last, and she thought, for a moment, that he actually looked… _nervous_ , like he expected her to say no. She  _should_  have said no, and would have, maybe, if just a few minutes ago he hadn't sounded so…hurt.

"Yeah. Yeah, I want to." She crept forward, and couldn't help but smile in return to Vashyron, who was watching her with something almost like… _pride_?

The last thing she remembered, half-way through the movie, was the warmth of Vashyron's arm draping over her shoulders affectionately, and Zephyr looking over at her across his lap and - "Look, Leanne, I didn't mean to hurt you."

She was almost sure she's said  _it's okay_ before she'd given into the warm fuzziness that tugged at the edges of her awareness.

She woke at some point, groggy, to the sound of Vashyron snoring gently above her head. She was curled in crook of his arm, using his ribs as a pillow. The TV was still running, gently, almost covering his faint rasping, and his hair tumbled loosely around his face. The tie had been tossed onto the table to her left.

And in his other arm lay Zephyr. Well, on, not in- he was stretched out with his legs over one arm, head against Vashryon's upper arm and hands laced on his chest. There was a softness to his features that wasn't there awake.

That was as far as her brain got before she curled up, warm and sleepy, back into Vashryon's protective cuddle.

Maybe she'd make it in this little world, after all.


	3. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Things Should Have Gotten More Attention

_It had happened so quickly._

_She'd seen death, before, of course. But it had always been…in self defense. People and monsters and dogs and beasts trying to harm her, or her friends. She'd learned to aim, to shoot, to flip and skid and run and slide and dodge and weave. She'd learned, even, how to enjoy_  a good fight, the rush of adrenaline, the  _thrill_  of battle.

But that was always what it had been. Battle. She'd never seen anyone just…die, before.

One minute, they'd been sitting on a bench together, talking. Just- talking, laughing, he'd been so shy and awkward and adorable. She hadn't had the heart to take his money. He'd been  _alive_ , not much older then herself and acting even younger because a girl was around. Blushing and  _sweet_ , sweet in a way no one was anymore, innocent, naïve, even.

And he'd tried to protect her. This overweight, goofy little boy had tried to be her hero. Her  _knight_.

And then he'd just…dropped. The goblin hadn't even hit back. He'd just gone down with a low noise of shock and time had, for a moment, stood still.

Then she'd heard Zephyr's voice, from what felt like a thousand miles away, calling his name- and Vashyron, too, alarmed, concerned. Both of them calling for her, too.

He'd been dead before he'd hit the ground.

"No pain," Vashryon had drawled, later. "Leanne, he was dead before he knew it."

That didn't help.

She stood now on the roof of Sweet Home, listening to Vashyron and Zephyr below her. They were in some kind of good-natured argument down there, the two of them, yelling and thumping. As if nothing was wrong. As if nothing had happened.

In a way, it made sense. None of them had really  _known_  Pater, after all; not well. And death was something they were even more familiar with then she was-  _personal_  death. They weren't touched by this, weren't  _hurt_  by it like she was.

So it was to her surprise that she heart footsteps ascending the stairs, and after a moment, Zephyr, speaking quietly at her back.

"Hey. Food's here."

"I'm not really hungry." She whispered, leaning on the railing, putting her chin on her arms. "I'll come down later."

There was a pause.

"Leanne…" And he was by her side, leaning back against the rail. He propped his elbows there, tipped his head back gently.

"I'm alright." She forced a smile. "Really. I'm just a little- shaken up, I guess."

He was looking down, at his feet, and when he spoke again his voice was distant. "You made him happy, you know? He thought you- and he thought he was a hero." A little shrug. "He was probably dead before he could realize he wasn't."

"He  _was_." She was speaking before she really gave herself permission to. "Maybe he didn't know how to sling a gun around or flip through the air like some kind of bird, but he  _was_."

"Okay, okay." A placating movement with his hands. "I didn't mean it like that."

"And everyone stop telling me how he didn't feel anything or didn't even know it happened. He's dead, for no good reason, trying to protect  _me_. He's just-dead!" Her voice rose, to her alarm, and his head shot up, eyes wide on her face.

"I- uh-oh,  _hell_ , Leanne, I'm not-" He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly, pressing his eyes closed hard. "Look, I get it, okay? What happened was sad, I guess-"

"You  _guess_?" She reached out and slapped him upside the skull, hard enough to knock him forward. "You  _think so_? Zephyr!"

"Whoa, whoa, alright, that's enough." The third, low, mild voice came from the base of the stairs. A moment later, Vashyron appeared. "Bell's rung, round's over. Do I need to send you two to your corners? Hey. Leanne." His voice softened, roughened, and she realize she'd been crying without meaning to. She wiped at her eyes furiously and turned away again.

"Both of you leave me alone."

Zephyr, rubbing the back of his head and wincing, looked like he would really have liked to take her up on that offer. She was really trying not to cry, she was, but she couldn't stop and he looked scared half to death. It was Vashyron who came up from behind, took her in powerful arms and pulled her against his chest. She startled, at first, but his embrace was nothing but brotherly and warm and firm, holding her tightly and just- letting her feel him breathe. They stood quietly for a long time, except for the sound of Leanne's sniffles.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, after a minute. It wasn't their fault they were more used to death then she was. More hardened then she was.

"Don't be. I expected this." He ruffled her hair, fondly. "I expected this a hell of a lot sooner, actually. And not over Pater." Before she could get angry again, he went on. "But I understand. And so does Zephyr, he's just a little bit of an idiot sometimes."

"Hey!"

"You  _are_." She sniffled again. "I feel so stupid."

"Don't." Vashyron leaned on the rail, beside her. "There's a big difference between fighting for your own life and something like what happened to Pater. Makes it real. It's death that touches you, instead of just- death." He waved a hand, vaguely. "It's heavy. Even if it wasn't your fault." Something dark and rare flashed over his face. "Feels like it was."

She leaned next to him, and Zephyr, after a moment, leaned on her other side. His head was down, eyes half-closed, and her mind flashed back to the Bad Day, and she felt bad for having hit him. She reached out, touching the back of his skull. He jumped.

"What-"

"I take it back." Her lips trembled when she tried to smile. He blinked at the childish action, surprised, then nodded a little.

"Whatever. It's fine." He let out a soft sigh. "Oh. Hey. Wait a second, I'll be right back." He pushed off the railing, leaping down into the main room. She turned to watch him go, head tilted curiously. Vashyron half-turned, and there was a little, mysterious smile on his face.

"What did he go to get?"

"You'll see."

He returned just a few minutes later, holding a box of tissues in one hand and a couple, small pieces of peppermint candy in the other. Her favorite.

She couldn't help but laugh, wetly- yeah, Zephyr could be a lunk head, but he had a good heart. And sometimes, he did things just right. His smile was timid and unsure, a rare gift by itself- he didn't often smile like that, sweet and sincere.

He grinned, he laughed, he bore his teeth in a macabre thing that was more snarl then amusement in a fight, he would smirk and half-smile, all of those things all the time. But this little, shy, gentle thing that lit up his eyes and softened his face…no. "Here."

She took the candy from him, let him tip it in her palm. His calloused hand was so gentle on her own- he was always so careful, like he was constantly afraid to hurt her. She took the tissues, too, and underneath there was something else. Frowning, she slid it out.

It was a picture. Snapped of herself and Pater, sitting on their bench. Any other time, she would have raged, wheeling around to Vashryon about invasion of privacy and being nosey and over-protective and _rude_ , but now all she could do was stare.

The sun was setting before them, casting long shadows and turning the sky into a brilliant decoration of colors. The wind had taken her hair for a moment, pushing it back as she giggled at something, eyes crinkled at the corners with real delight and hand over her mouth. That  _stupid_  bee headband that Zephyr had forced her to wear- a bet gone horribly, horribly in his favor- had slipped a little. She remembered she'd had to push it back up. It clashed hideously with her simple black and white outfit, but Pater hadn't cared. He's said she looked  _very nice_ , and he'd meant it.

She'd blushed.

He was smiling, too, watching her laugh; his goofy, honest, little boy's smile. He seemed so thrilled that he'd made her giggle, eyes shining, sitting stiff and awkward but leaning eagerly towards her. He looked- he  _did_  look- honestly happy, she realized. Happy that she was there, that she was laughing, that he'd  _made_  her laugh. They both looked happy and content and at peace with the entire world, in that one moment, that one instant, preserved. She tightened her grip on it, feeling the tears start again.

"That wasn't supposed to make you  _cry again_ -" Zephyr sounded almost panicked, but his words cut off when she put her arms around his neck and hugged, tightly. It was like hugging a piece of steel pipe. He was stiff and awkward, and she could feel his heart  _racing_. Then his arm slowly lifted, wrapping around her back and holding her gently.

"See? Told you." He whispered, lowering his forehead to the top of her hair. "I bet he was as happy right then as he'd ever been in his entire life. Even when we brought him his 'star'."

"You did right by him, Leanne." Vashyron, to her surprise. She unattached from Zephyr and spun to hug  _him_ , too. It was a totally different experience; his heart and breath didn't speed up, but he didn't tense awkwardly, either. He folded around her in a return embrace easily and naturally, giving her a warm squeeze.

"It's alright." He murmured, gently. "Or it will be. Don't let it get to you, Leanne. It'll eat you from the inside out."

She nodded into his chest, pulling away after a minute. "You said something about-dinner?"

He smiled at her, the smile he reserved just for her and Zephyr. She'd  _never_ seen him offer it to anyone else.

"Yeah. C'mon."


	4. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Zephyr Has Masks.

" _I'd always gotten the impression you were hard to approach, Zephyr, but when you're with Cardinal Pater, you're just another, regular boy. I think I saw you smile for the first time the other day." -Random Woman. No. Really. Just some chick on the street. Bumped into her just talking to NPCs. But she inspired this, so, credit where credit's due._

He was a weird guy. There was no denying it. It was like being trailed around by a big, happy go-lucky puppy, though, and really, not even  _Zephyr_  had the heart to be cruel towards  _that_. Pater was weird, yeah- some people even said kind of creepy, and that was true, too. Zephyr suspected there Was Something Wrong with Pater, up top. But even if there was- well. He didn't really have a lot of room to  _talk_ , did he? And out of the pair of them, frankly, Pater was  _not_  the one to be worried about.

Sh-hit, even if what had happened hadn't happened, Zephyr was still the one who made a living off other people's  _dying_ , and did it well.

No. Pater wasn't the one to look at cross-eyed, here. And Zephyr was a whole hell of a lot of things, good and bad, but self aware was one and hypocritical  _wasn't_. So even if there was something not quite right with Pater- and he'd bet every single penny he'd earned that week that there was- to be blunt, Zephyr didn't give a shit.

What really got him was that Pater? Didn't ask questions. Ever. No,  _why are you doing this_? No,  _how come you three live together, how did you met, who were you what where you before?_  The most he  _ever_ asked was if he and Leanne were  _together_ , stuttering and shy, and Zephyr had nearly spat his tongue out in his hurry to deny it.

_We're just friends. Just friends. Just- she can't- I don't-_

And even then- no  _why_. No questions  _at all_.

And in the end, that's why Zephyr liked him. Pater just  _accepted_ , blindly and trustingly, and he all but kissed the ground the three of them walked on. It was strange, but kind of nice, having someone look up to him. He wasn't certain  _how_  he felt about it, really; irritated sometimes, amused mostly, and sometimes ashamed because he  _knew_  he didn't deserve it, really. Not someone like him.

But sometimes, he didn't feel any of those things. Like now, when he was laughing himself sick and Pater was grinning at him, lop-sided and goofy, clearly delighting in his little victory. He pushed a hand through his hair, leaning back on the railing of the lift.

"She's going to be so angry." He drawled, catching his breath at last. "I'll catch  _hell_."

The smile wilted. "Oh. Oh, you can tell her it was my idea, Zephyr-"

"Nah." He chuckled, looking at Pater again- naivety, gentleness, innocence all looked back eagerly, and the grin twitched back on his lips.  _I should pat his head and give him a cookie. Was I_ _ **ever**_ _like this?_

"Besides, I talked you into it, and she'll know that. I'm mean like that, you're not." He waved away the spluttered protest. "It's just a caricature, Pater, it's not like you stole her panties and hung them up somewhere. Hey, I didn't know you could  _turn_  that color red."

"I-would never-"

"I might. Hey!" He rubbed his arm where he'd been flicked. "Oh, come on, it'd be funny-"

"It would not!"

And he was laughing again. It felt good-  _really_  good. He didn't laugh, a lot. Vashyron and Leanne made him laugh, and he knew that got that same little smile when they did; like they'd just won a prize. He'd stopped being annoyed about it ages ago. It just was, and as far as quirks went, it could be a lot worse, he guessed.

"Alright,  _alright_." He twisted so that he was right-way-round on the bridge's railing, leaning over to peer down dangerously far. He'd always liked heights. "It's starting to get late. You should head home."  _Oh, geez, could I sound any more like his mother?…Friggin' lift's five feet away from us._

"I guess." A soft sigh. "Thanks for spending the day with me, Zephyr." Surprisingly soft, and when he turned to look, he realized, abruptly, that Pater  _knew_. It was easy to think he was oblivious to what people sometimes thought about him, that he was perpetually happy, but there was something sad touching his eyes and almost  _keen_ , back there, almost sharp; like a knife that just needed to be worked with a little to regain it's edge.

"Hey, nothing better to do. Besides, uh," He added, quickly, when Pater looked away- "I like it. No, really. We're- friends, right?" And  _shit_ , did those words taste strange. Zephyr  _was not_  happy-cheerful-friendship- yay!, not even with Leanne and Vashyron. He wasn't optimistic and springy. He was a cynical, snarky, aloof, sarcastic bastard with an attitude problem. In all of Basil, he'd always through he'd had all of two friends, and it had taken a  _long_  time before he'd used the term freely.

But damn if he didn't realize it was true the moment he said it. He  _was_  Pater's friend, and he  _did_  enjoy being with him.

"We are?"

"Well duh. You think I spend all day running around with some guy I don't like?" He grinned crookedly, and got a warm smile in return for his-uh, rather  _awkward_  efforts. So he was doing something right- right?

He'd never had to worry about it, with Leanne and Vashyron. They'd just- clicked. Just  _fit_. Neat as a puzzle piece. Leanne had been  _slightly_  more difficult; for one, she was a girl. For two, they'd been able to _think_  about her…with Zephyr himself…well. He couldn't say for Vashyron, but for at least the first few months he'd barely been  _okay_ , let alone worrying about how to properly socialize with a strange guy you were suddenly living with. And when he  _was_  more in a state of mind to worry about it, there hadn't been anything to worry  _about_. By the time the worst of the storm had passed, it was like they'd been brothers for as long as either could remember.

Of  _course_  they fought. And argued. And bickered and screamed and occasionally did very nasty things to each other out of spite. But it always blew over and settled itself, no need to work at it.

He had to work at it with Pater. There wasn't that easy, just-comfortable-with-each-other sense that he had with the other two. But that made sense in a way, too; he was someone else, around Pater. He  _acted_ differently, he  _thought_  differently, he even  _spoke_  differently. He didn't mind it; but he was aware of it. He felt  _lighter_ , somehow.

"-listening to me? Zephyr?"

He jolted, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

"Sorry, sorry. I don't know where I went, there."

"I said 'I'm glad we are'." Pater smiled, slapped the rail lightly. "You don't think she's….going to be  _too_  angry, do you?"

He chuckled. "No. She'll flounce around with her panties in a bunch for a little bit, but she won't take it to heart."

"Good." He sighed in relief- which was funny, because it was going to  _Zephyr_ who had to live with her, and she was all-too-willing to hit him when she was displeased-and pushed off the rail. "I'll see you tomorrow, Zephyr, if you're not busy."

He lifted a hand, shoving back himself. "Yeah, maybe tomorrow. 'Night." He watched Pater vanish, turned back to the city and stuffed his hands in his pockets, taking a last deep breath of the rapidly-chilling air before he opened his eyes and shucked off the person who'd been talking to Pater like a snake sheds skin.

If he'd known that was the last time he'd ever get to  _be_ that person, he might not have done so quite so quickly.


	5. Sweet and Sour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In Which Zephyr Still Has Masks. And Leanne Sees Right Through Them.

He'd bought her ice-cream.

That memory would always stand out for Leanne; she'd been terrified, and unsure, and feeling lost and confused and the Arena, at the time, had seemed huge and dark and dank and frightening. (Now she felt as comfortable there as she did at home; but at the time, she'd hardly ever even  _seen_  a gun, let alone a place like this, with people like these.)

Zephyr and Vashyron had entered the arena with easy familiarity; a man behind the counter called out to Vashyron by name and lifted a hand in greeting. "Hey." The older hunter had replied, and dropped a hand on her shoulder. He'd given it a little, reassuring squeeze. "You kids entertain each other. I'll be right back."

"What's he doing?" She'd asked, nervously, and she'd had to ask it again because she spoke so softly and the place was so loud.

"Getting us ready." Zephyr replied, with a cryptic little grin. "Hey, relax. You're shaking."

She blinked, looked down at her hands to see that he was right.

"I'm sorry. I've never- I mean, I don't- places like this-"

"You'll get used to it. You'd better." He said, and she'd glared at him.

"That's not very encouraging!"

"I don't get paid to be encouraging." He'd grinned crookedly, and the expression behind the acidic words had been so out of place and boyishly charming that she'd been taken completely aback. "Look,  _you_ said you wanted to learn how to do this-"

"I know what I said!"

"Well, then, stop acting like a spooked kitten!"

"I'm  _scared_!"

"Oh, for- there's nothing to be scared  _of_."

"Except for the  _guns_!"

He made an exasperated noise, raking a hand through his hair. " _Look_. Leanne. You're going to be pointing and clicking at targets firing  _blanks_  at you for the first few weeks. Not frightening."

She went silent, biting her lip and looking down. He was  _right_ \- she was being utterly stupid, considering she'd insisted they bring her here and teach her how to be what they were, do what they did.

There was silence, for a minute, then he disappeared from her side. She turned, quickly, looking for him, but not panicked- she could see Vashyron, a few feet away, talking to the man who'd addressed him and filling out some paperwork. He was relaxed, at ease, body language languid and comfortable. He leaned a hip on the counter, occasionally gestured with his free hand, and laughed often and easily at something the other man said. So long as she could see him, there, a reassuringly steady presence, she was okay.

Someone tapped her shoulder. She spun, and there he was, holding ice cream and looking down at his shoes. He had the bluest eyes she'd ever seen. She'd noted that first thing about him; even bluer then her own, vivid and deep, nearly black when he was angry and almost silver when he laughed. They were half-hidden under a tuft of his feathery hair, now, and he extended the ice cream like he was shoving a bomb at her. "Here." He said, quick and sharp.

She blinked in surprise at the offering under her nose, then gently reached out to accept it. "I-Why did you?…"

"It's hot in here, right?" He was rubbing the back of his neck. "Besides, it's-I-"

_He's apologizing._

She smiled, licked the tip of the ice cream neatly and hummed with pleasure. "Wow, it's really good! Thanks, Zephyr."  _I just hope it stays down. How awful would that be, puking up his I'm sorry ice cream all over his shoes?…_

"Hey, love birds, get over here." Vashyron's voice, light and affectionate; Zephyr slipped back to his side like a dog at the call and she followed.

She'd always remember that day, for as long as she lived; that he'd never apologized but he'd brought her ice cream, and blushed and smiled and she'd thought how good he was, and then how  _cute_  he was, which surprised her but he  _was_ , when he wasn't swaggering and strutting and acting like an idiot.

Now, two years later, surrounded by flowers and staring up at a bright warm sun with her boys just a few feet away, laughing at something, she thought about everything they'd been through, done and seen and experienced, and all she could think we she'd very first fallen in love with him when he'd given her that damn ice cream.


	6. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Which Is Not A Place, Nessicarily.

"-kay, alright, easy, you're fine, Zephyr,  _Zephyr_ , damn it, you're safe!"

Blink. Light. Hurt.  _Cold_.

"You're safe." Softer, urgent, low-harsh-breathless. "Look at me. C'mon, kid, let me see those baby blues."

_Vashyron. Home._

He focused.

"Hi there." Vashyron was gripping his arms painfully tight- holding him down, he realized, but also holding  _on_  to him, grounding him. "You back?"

"Didn't go anywhere." His throat  _hurt_. He winced, coughed. "Why're you in m' room?"

"You were screaming loud enough to wake the entire city, kid." Gently. So very gently, and he  _hated_  it. At the least, there was no pity in Vashyron's face; there was  _nothing_  but steady patience and concern and friendship. He couldn't have handled pity.

"Let me up." So that's why his throat burned like acid. Shit. He hadn't pulled this shit since he'd first come here. He was shaking like a fucking leaf and he felt  _sick_ , stomach twisting and tight like iron. Vashryon's hands left his arms, slow and careful.

And then he saw her. Biting her lip, hovering in the doorway. She met his eyes, and then turned and  _fled_.

"…sorry." He whispered, running a hand over his face.

"Bad one, hu?" Vashyron sat down the bed, didn't touch him, was  _very careful_  not to touch him now that he'd let go. "Expected it, after today. Here."

He startled as a cup was offered to him. When he took it, hands still trembling no matter how much he tried to make them stop, it was hot.  _Really_  hot. It felt good, though, because every drop of heat had apparently leaked out of his body onto the floor below. Vashyron was warm, too. He leaned, a little, and a steady, unflinching shoulder met his in absolutely silent support.

"What is it?"

"Old,  _old_  trick. Just trust me. It'll make your throat feel better."

He shrugged- he  _did_  trust Vashyron, more then he wanted to think about- and brought the cup to his lips. He tasted lemon, and honey, and- he laughed shakily. Lemon tea.

"Never took you for an old wife."

A snort. "Not yammering helps, too. Should I duct tape your mouth?…"

He sipped the tea again, wincing as it burned it's way down his raw throat- but  _did_  sooth, too, a slow after-effect, and the heat slowly seeped into him, warming him up again. Distantly, he was aware that Vashyron's hand had come to the small of his back, was rubbing up and down and he wanted to snap that he wasn't a kid and wasn't a cat but it felt  _really good_. He didn't get touched like this often, normally wouldn't even  _think_  about putting up with it, but he was…

He was…

 _Really tired_. Shit, he was so tired. Bone-weary, he'd heard someone say once. He hadn't understood it then, but now he thought he did; he felt like if he'd stood up, he would have just collapsed under his own weight. He wouldn't be able to get back to sleep- he never could, after these dreams. But the hand rubbing his back was steady and firm and the heat was making his muscles go languid and relaxed.

"Feeling better?"

"Not really." He closed his eyes, pressing his fingers into them. His other hand was wrapped around his middle, where the iron ball still hadn't gone away. He was clenching and unclenching his hands on the cup, and he couldn't stop.

"Yeah, didn't think so. Look, Zephyr…" Vashyron suddenly reached out, tapped his knee light-as-a-feather. "This shit, about wanting to die. It didn't start until Lagerfield had his way with you. Lest, not where I could hear."

He gritted his teeth, looked away.

_Why did you live when they died?_

"Yeah, well, maybe he just said what everyone was thinking."

"Not me."

_Is your life worth more then theirs?_

"Me, then." He snapped. He would have yelled, but his throat  _hurt_.

Vashyron was silent. The hand on his back, through, kept moving…steady and firm over his lower back. He couldn't bring himself to pull away.

"I get it, you know." The words were almost inaudible, so incredibly soft were they. "Our situations…they're different. But I understand, being the one left standing."

"You don't understand  _shit_." His voice cracked for more reasons then his screaming, and he pressed his eyes closed hard.  _Fuck, start bawling again, why don't you?_  The hand on his back paused, stiffened for a minute, then resumed it's slow, soothing pattern.

"Alright." Was the simple reply. "I don't understand shit. You want me to leave you to it?"

He wanted Vashyron to get pissed. To get hurt and angry, to give him an excuse to yell and hit and  _break the fucking cup into a million fucking pieces_. There was  _so much_  with no where for it to go, and sometimes, when he felt this way, he was  _so scared_  he'd just… _slip_ , again, living in utter terror of himself and what he'd done and could do and  _might_ do-

"Zephyr." Her voice made him look up, surprised. She'd run back to her own room, he'd seen her turn and bolt, but now Leanne stood at the door in her Pjs, biting her lip and hugging herself gently.

And something in him uncoiled, just a little bit. "Can I- come in?"

He nodded, and she entered, taking up a spot on his other side. "You should finish that. You sound all raspy."

"He hasn't exactly got a honey-smooth voice in the first place." Vashyron, gently teasing and soft. The thing inside uncoiled a little more, then even more at Leanne's uncertain giggle.

"We can't all sound like an old west hero riding to the rescue."

"I'm starting to get offended at all these cracks. You both should learn respect for your elders."

His eyes burned. Now that the tight knot in his belly had started to unwind, he was aware of just how much he was leaning into Vashyron, the older man's arm around him almost completely.

He half-suspected Vashyron had slipped something into the tea; he wouldn't put it past him, he'd done it before. But oddly, he couldn't care. He closed his eyes, just for a moment, just to stop the sting-

-and the cup slipped through the kid's fingers. Zephyr didn't seem aware that he'd lost it, and Vashryon gently caught it with a small smile. Times like this he was reminded just how young his kids were, seventeen and nineteen, shit, just babies. They didn't deserve any of this. Zephyr muttered, tiredly, and he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him closer, gently. There was a low, tired sigh, and a blonde head dropped to his chest, soft hairs tickling his nose. He rubbed the back of Zephyr's neck, firmly but gently, setting the tea down on a table.

"There you go." He murmured, when the blue eyes fluttered shut without Zephyr's permission. "Relax, Zephyr, I've got you."

"Got me?" The words were slurred, half-laughed…shit, he was exhausted. He hadn't even  _had_  to drug the tea, though Leanne had been prepared to do it.

"Yeah, got you." He smiled, looked over to Leanne. She reached out, hesitated, then brushed a hand over his forehead, combed backwards through Zephyr's feathery hair.

"You can go back to bed. You've got to be tired, too." He told her, as Zephyr's breathing started to even out and deepen again.

"It's already like six in the morning." She smiled. "Might as well stay up. I can make coffee, if you want."

"Please." He smiled, and she returned it.

"He'll- be alright. Right?"

"He'll be fine." He wasn't sure if he was lying or not. "How are you holding up?"

"I'm- okay." She shrugged.

"Yeah." He shifted, let Zephyr settle more heavily against him. It'd been a  _long_  time since he'd had Zephyr asleep on him like this…he wasn't sure if it was a step backwards or forward for either of them. "Well, if you're gonna make that coffee-"

Her smile was a little more honest, this time, more like it used to be. "Yes,  _Master Vashyron."_

" _Now_  you're gettin' the idea." He laughed, laughed harder when she smacked him in the face with a pillow. She slipped from the room, and he eased the younger man back down onto the bed-and found he couldn't pull away.

And he stopped and  _stared_  at the hand that was caught in his sleeve, holding on tightly, at the tears that tracked down an otherwise peacefully asleep face. Zephyr's brow furrowed, his breath hitched slightly, but there was no screaming, no sobbing, no dramatics. Just quiet tears and that  _grip_.

"Alright." He said, after a minute. "Alright, I'm not going anywhere." He sank back down onto the mattress, leaning against the headboard.

He'd never been a people person. He'd never been  _good_  with people, and he'd  _never_  expected to be laying here, arm wrapped around a seventeen year old gently, every protective instinct he'd never thought he'd had screaming and snarling inside his chest. Leanne and Zephyr…his kids. Shit, he'd never  _tell_  them that, he thought, wiping away some of the wetness from Zephyr's cheek, gently. But they  _were_.

He was well and truly fucked.

He'd known that the moment Leanne had gone after Zephyr, gun in hand, in her little pig shirt and capris and the image of a teenage girl looking even younger then she was racing through the rain with a deadly weapon clapped in her hands had been one he wasn't sure amused him, sickened him, or impressed him.

A little of all, he thought.

She'd gone racing after him, and he'd tried to force himself to stay, to let them deal with their own problems, tried to convince himself they could take care of themselves. But when they hadn't come back and the rain stopped and it got later and later, he'd gone hunting them without his own permission, his feet taking him to the bridge even while he cursed himself out and called himself six kinds of fool.

He'd known that when he'd seen them on the bridge, pressed together, soaking wet, a dead body feet away and even now the sound of  _someone's_  hoarse half-sobs reaching his ears, and felt something inside him clench tightly. Unfamiliar- or at the very least, it had been so long since he'd felt it- and  _painful_ ,  _damn_ it had hurt.

He'd known that when he'd gently coaxed them upright- and he'd  _had_  to coax them, gently tugging Leanne upright and at least she'd  _walked_  on her own, even if it was a slow, downtrodden shuffle. He'd had to keep one hand on Zephyr's back the entire walk home, all but pushing him forward. And he'd wanted nothing more then to  _hurt_  the person that had hurt them, to find them and do worse then shoot them, and while he'd known they both needed to be left alone to make their own choices, their own decisions, that didn't stop the thing in his chest that was coldly furious.

Yeah. He was trapped.

Zephyr sighed, softly, and he glanced down at the sleeping boy. No more tears, he noted, though the grip on his sleeve was still there. He gently, gently removed himself from the now-lax hold, and Zephyr- thank God- didn't protest in any way, just curled into a little, loose ball. He drew the covers over him-  _getting maternal there, Vashyron?_ \- and-

_*Snap.*_

He whirled, instantly, to see Leanne standing in the doorway, camera in one hand and the other hand hiding her grin.

"…You have ten seconds to give me that."

"Shh. You'll wake him up."

"Nine."

"But you were so  _cute_ -"

_"Eight."_

"Oh, come on, no one will see-"

"Seven."

"Unless I decide to use it as blackmail…"

"Six." He started to advance. For every step forward he took, she took one back.

"At least I didn't get a picture of your little cuddle."

_"Fivefourthreetwoone!"_

In retrospect, making a teenage girl scream at six AM was not one of his better ideas.


End file.
